


And your name is?

by sweatermouse (maxiiimum)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug, 君の名は。| Kimi no Na wa. | Your Name.
Genre: Character Death, F/M, also expect most of the ml cast, at least for a little while, but just as supporting characters bc i dont wanna clog up tags, gotta have some magic in there, not gonna be a carbon copy of the kimi no na wa plotline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-08 03:12:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12855495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxiiimum/pseuds/sweatermouse
Summary: - Kimi No Na Wa/Your Name AU -Marinette is a small town baker's daughter, longing for the lights of the big city and gifted with a flair for creative fashion. Adrien is the son of an upcoming fashion designer, but he longs for the life of a regular sixteen year old. They'll find themselves waking up in each other's bodies, but what will happen when a comet falls and tragedy strikes?- unbeta'd -





	1. 0 - Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Well it's been a while since I last wrote a fic - about four years to be precise - but this idea has been nagging at me since the first time I saw the film.  
> I'm planning on adjusting the 'Your Name' plotline to fit Marinette and Adrien better, so keep in mind that this isn't going to be the same script with a change of names.  
> I hope you enjoy :)

_Once in a while, I’ll wake up to find myself crying, the dream I’d just had resting on the tip of my tongue although it was already long forgotten._

Every so often I’ll see myself somewhere where the scenery is greener than the concrete of Paris, and although I’m certain I’ve never been there, my heart yearns for it.

_I feel so lost._

Why does it feel so familiar?

_I’ve lost something, something precious to me._

This feeling… it lingers, and I know I’ve lost something precious.

_This feeling has haunted me since…_

I’m searching: for something, someone. I’ve always been searching, since…

_Since the sky fell._

Since the stars fell.

* * *

Marinette awoke to the sound of her alarm ringing, the rhythmic buzzing of her phone a slow wakeup call for the day ahead. With a drawn out stretch, she eased herself out of bed, the soles of her feet welcoming the warm touch of the floorboards beneath. She stifled a yawn before finally padding over to where she had thrown her phone the night before.

 _4:30am_ , it read before she dismissed the alarm and she dragged a hand down her face. In the 16 years of her life she’d been used to waking up early, but it had only been in the past five where she’d been expected to start waking earlier than most in order to help her parents run the bakery. Her younger self had rejoiced at the responsibility to help out.

Her current self could only wish for the same enthusiasm.

She let out a groan as she made herself prepare for the morning ahead, throwing on her ‘messy’ clothes before heading downstairs, where she could already hear her parents clattering about in the kitchens.

Being the only bakery in Èze meant that the Dupain-Cheng’s had to prepare enough bread daily to meet the demands of the town, as well as the varying baked treats that suited the other residents’ fancies. Her father was always more than pleased to be able to cater to the demands and her mother matched in his passion: they were truly a great team, and Marinette consistently took the time to watch their teamwork before she got stuck in. Watching them inspired her, but it also left her feeling a little _less_ than before; a certain sense of _nothing_ creeping in where their tender smiles and content hums buried their way into Marinette’s memory. She wasn’t jealous – she treasured her father and mother’s affections – but there was always something nagging at her, making her wish for _more_. But whether it was for the bond she saw her parents share or for the life she lived, she couldn’t quite tell.

She’d gotten used to the feeling of wanting, and it had gotten easier to hide as time went on. This morning, it didn’t even register for Marinette to school her expression before she entered the kitchen. She knew it would already be done. She immediately started washing her hands, intent on working on the bread dough to lessen the load on her parents.

“Morning maman.” She yawned, smiling weakly as she stepped up alongside her mother at the counter top.

“So you’re awake this morning?” Sabine chuckled, kneading into her batch.

“What do you mean?” Confusion set in on Marinette, eyes flitting up to her mother. “Of course I’m awake.”

“You overslept yesterday. Your father couldn’t wake you up – you were even late to school. I take it you had a better night’s sleep last night?”

She stared blankly at her mother then, trying to make sense of what she was saying. She wasn’t late to school yesterday – she hadn’t been late for as long as she could remember. Of course, she was consistently close to being late nearly every day, but she’d never _not_ woken up for the bakery at the very least. Brows furrowed, she cocked her head to the side.

“Are you alright maman? I’m sure I wasn’t late yesterday.”

“Yes you were Marinette. Me and your father had never seen you like it – we had half a mind to call you in sick when you did wake up and start asking where you were. You were on edge the whole day too. You had us quite worried.”

“That can’t be right…” Her speech trailed off into silence. She could’ve sworn yesterday was like every other, but she couldn’t see her mother playing a joke on her for no reason. She chewed on the thought as she continued making dough, unsure of what to make of it all. Was it common to forget an entire day of your own life? Or had her life become so monotonous that the days had begun to blur together?

It was second nature for Marinette to mask her wanting of _more,_ but there was a longing that she could never hide completely. It was forever creeping into the edges of her consciousness, a deep wish to escape the small town she’d been born in to. Èze was pretty, beautiful even, but that was all it had to offer: there was nothing for a young girl like herself to engage in, and she knew she’d been resigned to inherit the family bakery the day she’d been born. It was a bleak future to look forward to, and so she didn’t. She didn’t want to disappoint her family, but there was no way for her to be happy where she was; kneading dough simply didn’t fit into her grand scheme, not like it did for her parents.  Happiness, to Marinette, meant the city of lights; making it big as a fashion designer and following her dreams in a way that she could never, _ever_ do in Èze. Oh how she longed to live in Paris… but she knew it was an impossible dream, for as much as she desired the big city she adored her mother and father in equal parts. And wasn’t as if she loathed the bakery either – she just hated the fate she’d unknowingly agreed to inherit.

But on that morning, the yearning for a life she could never have was overwhelming, clawing up her throat and pressing down upon her chest. Her movements sluggish, her head fell, and she felt the unfortunate pricking of tears in her eyes – _keep it together, Marinette –_ causing her to laugh dejectedly. Just how would she explain this? She wasn’t the type to burst into seemingly unprovoked crying fits after all.

“Can I be excused?”

She felt her mother’s face soften rather than see it, “Of course, _cheri._ If you’re still ill, go back to sleep. Your father will wake you in time for school.”

“Merci, maman.” With a grateful nod, she left the kitchen, sniffing quietly to keep her tears in check. She rushed up to her bedroom, but knew she wouldn’t be sleeping again that morning – too many emotions running rampant in her mind prevented any sort of fatigue from claiming her. The pressure in her chest was mounting, the crest of the wave about to break.

Throwing open her windows and startling the pigeons nesting on the slated rooftop underneath, she leaned dangerously out into the open with her arms pressed firmly against the slats. Half in, half out, she inhaled sharply before unexpected words tore from her mouth.

“ _I hate this town, I hate this life!”_ Inhale. “ _I just wanna be a cute Parisian boy in my next life! Please!”_

And for once, she didn’t care who heard her.

And she she turned away, preparing to face her painfully boring life, she missed the single, red ladybug landing on her otherwise spotless windowpane.

* * *

Just like any other morning Marinette woke to her phone’s alarm, though this time it wasn’t quite where she’d left it. Paranoid over her mother’s claims the morning before, she’d kept her alarm close at hand just in case she slept through it.

Or that was the plan at least. This time when she woke, she reached out to turn off the blaring sound and found the space under her palm empty. Eyes shooting open, she sat bolted upright, whipping her head left and right to try and find where her phone had gotten to. Scanning her towering bookshelves, looking upon her plush cream carpets, she finally spotted it upon her computer desk, vibrating against the closest of the three monitors. It was only when she clambered out of bed and silenced the phone did she realise. _None of those things were hers._

Panic settled on her chest and she spun herself in circles trying to grasp where in the world she was. A double bed; white leather couch; skate ramps and a climbing wall – the essentials of a bedroom and _everything else_. She’d never seen a room so extravagant and it only made her unease grow.

How had she gotten here?

Casting another glance at her phone, she barked out a startled gasp as she recognised it as not hers, throwing it as far as she could before turning in the opposite direction. In her haste to get away, she stumbled over her feet, falling to the ground with a loud thump before scrambling back up and rushing towards the only open door she found. Tumbling into what was obviously a shower room, her heart leaped into her throat at the sight of a mirror. Hung parallel to the white tiled wall, she slowly crept towards the reflective surface, suddenly unsure of what she would see. She couldn’t feel any pain, but what if she had been kidnapped? If she was covered in bruises, she didn’t know how she’d cope – how would she explain it to her parents?

How would she get home?

With her eyes closed, she stepped in front of the mirror. Rocking on her feet, back and forth, back and forth, she rose up onto her tiptoes, nails digging into her palms as she curled her hands into fists. Gathering her courage, she opened her eyes.

And _screamed._

Instead of her usual reflection, she found blonde hair and green eyes peering back at her; a lithe, athletic body and a few extra inches added onto her height. No longer was she seeing Marinette Dupain-Cheng, short and a little bit pudgy, hands calloused from kitchen work and arms beginning to build muscle from the heavy lifting. No, she wasn’t even seeing a girl. Staring back at her was a _boy_ – and a pretty one at that.

But that did nothing to ease her panic.

Running back out into her – his – room, her heart leaped into her throat once more when she heard footsteps nearing the closed door, controlled knocking as a concerned female voice sounded through the wood. “Adrien? Adrien, are you alright?”

“Um, uh I – I’m okay!” She stuttered loudly, assuming _she_ was ‘Adrien’. What was she to do? “Just f-fine!”

She heard the sigh from the other side of the door and felt her shoulders sag. She’d done it. She’d bought herself some extra time to figure out just what was going on.

“Of course. Just… be ready by 8, please. Madam Ducoeur will be here earlier than last week due to prior engagements, and you don’t want to make her wait, do you?”

Marinette heard the footsteps recede before she had a chance to respond, and she let out the breath she’d been harbouring. This was dream, wasn’t it? It had to be. The thought calmed her somewhat, and she remembered to regulate her breathing.

She needed to get ready.

 


	2. 1 - Unlike Amnesia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watch me abuse the French language

_“We look up at the same stars and see such different things.”_

* * *

 

Marinette

With the last flick of her wrist, Marinette finished her work in the kitchens for that morning and wasted no time in removing her apron so she could go join her parents for breakfast. Placing it upon the washing pile, neatly folded, she made her way upstairs. As she entered their living quarters, she accepted the plate her mother offered to her with thanks, clambering up on to one of the stools to be level with the breakfast bar.

She ate passively, her silence becoming a more regular thing in the household as of late. She knew she was acting unusual, but her mind was a mess; constantly buzzing as it tried to comprehend just what was happening to her. Mornings were always the worst, never knowing if she was coming or going, if she was even in her own body. She was disorientated, and there was nothing she could do about it apart from just adjust each and every morning. That morning was no different: Marinette struggled to keep her mind the same place her body was, her imagination (or was it memory?) dragging her away to someplace else entirely. Last night, her dream had lasted much longer than she’d ever imagined it to; the details so vivid she could almost convince herself she was truly there, instead of envisioning it all in her sleep.

* * *

 

 _Her fingers trembling, she bit down upon her lip to keep the tears from her eyes. She couldn’t make sense of the page before her. She knew she was looking at a music sheet but she just didn’t know how to translate it into sound – neither did she know how_ anyone _could understand it in a meaningful sense. Hesitantly, she poked one of the white keys, only to bite back a gasp as the sound came out louder than she anticipated._

_Marinette was no musician, that much was obvious, and with a glance toward Madam Ducoeur she knew it was coming across that way to others too. Her cheeks were on fire, but before she even had a chance to form an excuse for her failure, Adrien’s teacher stood abruptly, snatching up the music score._

_"I see something’s weighing on your mind today, Adrien. We’ll postpone today’s lesson – I’ll arrange something with your father’s secretary.” She nodded once before walking towards the door, bags in hand. “I hope you’ve got your things in order in time for our next meeting.”_

_As the door slammed shut behind her, Marinette’s head dropped suddenly onto the piano. The jarring notes did nothing to sooth her – she’d lasted barely ten minutes into what was supposed to be a two hour session. She’d hoped muscle memory would kick in quick enough and save her from the humiliation, but of course she’d set her hopes too high. She dreaded what Nathalie would have to say about this. The stern secretary had been suspicious of her the moment she’d wandered out of Adrien’s room that morning, from both her sudden screaming and – if what the woman had said were true – his mismatched outfit. Marinette usually prided herself on her knowledge of fashion and what looked good, but according to the other she’d paired a Gabriel shirt with another designer’s jeans. A_ ‘bold choice’ _Nathalie had called it, but Marinette knew she, or rather he, looked fine. More than fine. He was cut out to be a model – even in such deceptively simple styling._

_Her questions were answered soon enough. Even with her face planted firmly against the piano she heard the door swing open, Nathalie’s practical heels clicking against the marble floors. Marinette deigned to keep her head down, not ready to face whatever it was the other had to say._

_“We’ll keep this from your father.” Was all she said to begin with, her pen scribbling rapidly against the clipboard she consistently carried. “This cannot happen again, however. You have an hour and forty five minutes before your maths tutor arrives, and I expect you to use this time wisely. You’ll have early lunch after that, and then we’ll meet your father at Notre Dame for the photoshoot just as planned.”_

_Marinette lifted her head slightly to take a look at Nathalie, expecting to see her scowling at her papers. Instead she looked tired, and without another word she turned on her heel to leave the room, only stopping when she held the door open for herself._

_“Get your act together Adrien. Please.”_

 

* * *

 

“Marinette!”

Somehow she’d made it to school on time, crossing into the courtyard before looking over her shoulder. Dragged suddenly from her daydream as her best friend Alya raced towards her, stopping only when she crashed into the smaller girl with about as much grace as Marinette carried in her day to day life. Arms coiled around her shoulders, the brunette pulled away a moment later with a scowl twisting her features, hands moving to grip her shoulders tightly.

“You worried me, girl! Why didn’t you answer your phone yesterday? I called you, like, a million times last night. Were you ignoring me or what? Because I’d _really_ love to know.”

“Alya? Not you too!” Marinette sighed, stepping back from the other’s hold and dropping her head into her hand. “First my parents think I’m acting weird, and now you think I’m ignoring you. I’m really, _really_ not! I swear! I didn’t even _have_ any missed calls from anyone last night, let alone from you. You know I’d never ignore you… right?”

The other girl raised a brow, unconvinced. “I don’t know… you _have_ been acting kinda weird lately.”

“Alya!” Marinette cried despairingly, lifting her head.

“I’m serious, Marinette! Are you ill? You just haven’t been yourself lately. You were so… formal yesterday.” It was then she began to laugh, clutching her stomach as Marinette watched on in confusion. “I wish I filmed it. I’ve never seen you like that before! You looked so lost too – it was like your first day or something.”

“That bad, huh?” Marinette’s lower lip trembled, though she couldn’t fight the giggles that escaped her. “I guess it could’ve been worse.”

At that, Alya looked at her out of the corner of her eye, biting her cheek. “We’ll see about that.”

The bell rang, and together they ran to their classroom.

 

* * *

 

Marinette could hear the birds outside from where she sat, and the sounds of their song calming her as she readied herself for the lesson ahead. A relatively intelligent student, for the most part she didn’t have to worry about the content – it was always the class participation that spooked her most. Public speaking wasn’t her speciality, and seeing the expectant faces of her classmates every time she had to speak only made it worse. So far, it had only been Alya and Nino that were able to encourage her to stutter through the pages she had to read aloud, to take a guess at whatever question their teacher had thrown at her.

It didn’t take long for the lesson to start, and almost immediately their teacher began writing notes upon the board; a summary of what it was they were to cover that period.  Physics that early in the morning was never a good start, but Marinette stayed diligent, copying down notes whenever she could: forcing herself to stay busy to convince Monsieur Hulot that he _didn’t_ need to call upon her to check she was awake, as so often happened. Filling up her page, she flipped through her notepad absentmindedly before catching a glimpse of black scrawling. Glancing at her pen, it caught her attention immediately and she quickly flipped back through her pages until her book fell upon the page once more. With another look, she knew it wasn’t her handwriting. It seemed… rushed. Whoever had written it put too much ink against the paper, and the ink had bled outwards, feathering at the edges. She knew she hadn’t written it, but when had anyone else had the opportunity to write in there? Finally reading the words, she felt her confusion rise…

_Who are you?_

She didn’t realise how close she’d gotten to the page until she heard Monsieur Hulot’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Marinette.”

“Y-Yes!” She stood from her chair, dropping her notebook in her hurry as her face blossomed into colour. How had she let herself get so distracted?

“So you remember your name today?” His hearty chuckle made her cheeks warm even more so, though her brows furrowed. What was he talking about?

“Yes sir…”

“Well good. Would you care to answer the question on the board for us?”

She cast a quick glance at the board, and though she spoke, her mind was elsewhere. “The answer is 400 Newtons, sir.”

As she sat down, she missed the looks both Nino and Alya threw at her, a mixture of pride and surprise, lost to her own thoughts. However, she still heard Hulot, a faint buzz in the background.

“But enough of that. Heure de crépuscle. Twilight hour. Qui est-ce. Who is that. Together, they are the origin of the phrase ‘ _cr_ _épuscle qui’_. Twilight is the time between day and night, when it’s neither either or. It’s when the world blurs, and when one might encounter something not human. Older expressions include ‘ _heure de qui’_ and _‘cr_ _épuscle ce’_. The term together means _‘who’s twilight’,_ though I’ve heard the more accurate phrase would be the Japanese, _kataware-doki.”_

Slowly but surely, Marinette tuned out her teacher’s speech until the bell signalled the end of class, calling them all for break. Packing up her belongings, she bid a polite farewell to her teacher before meeting Alya and Nino at the door where they made their way out to the courtyard.

“So you really don’t remember?” Alya asked gently as the three of them sat in their usual spot; a secluded picnic bench in the shade, overlooking the busier school grounds. “Yesterday you couldn’t remember where your desk and locker were.”

“Your hair was down, and, well, I’ve never seen it so neat in my life!” Nino interrupted, pausing his music to focus in on the conversation at hand.

“Yes, thank you for your input Nino. Just because you’ve known Marinette longer doesn’t mean you know her _better._ ” Alya poked her tongue out at the male before continuing. “But it’s true. You were practically glowing despite everything.”

“What!” Marinette’s face flushed, mouth hanging open. “No way – really?”

“It was like you had amnesia.”

“Well…” She drawled, scratching at her ear awkwardly. “I do feel like I’ve been in a strange dream recently. A dream about someone else’s life? I can’t remember clearly.”

“I know!” Nino looked serious, holding up his phone to show the girls an article he’d dug up. “It was your previous life!”

At this, Marinette shied away from her friend while Alya leaned forward, snatching Nino’s phone from his hand with a scowl. “You! Stay out of this! You’re not helping.”

As she watched the pair of them, something clicked in Marinette’s thoughts and she too leaned forward, her scowl matching that of Alya’s as she put on an accusing tone. "Don’t tell me… Nino, it was you that wrote that in my notebook, wasn’t it?”

Nino’s attention instantly moved onto Marinette and he scrunched his brows, adjusting his glasses as he looked at her. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

She leaned back again, letting her head fall back so that she looked at the leaves above them. “It’s nothing. Nevermind.”

Shaking her head, Alya put her hand on Marinette’s shoulder, concerned etched into her features. “But Mari… you were acting really strange yesterday. Are you sure you’re feeling all right? I don’t want to sound like a mom but it was a bit worrying.”

Marinette sighed, shifting her body away from her friends as she pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her head on her folded arms. “How strange. I feel just fine.”

She appreciated Alya’s concern, but all the mystery as of late had been no more than a pain to her. It was just all so… so… confusing! Throughout her life, Marinette could’ve sworn she’d been able to mask her emotions so well and yet lately it all seemed to be falling apart without her noticing. She wasn’t acting like herself, and others had been picking up on that, much to her dismay. But what was she to do about it? She felt completely out of control and it was… scaring her, if she were to be honest. She couldn’t explain anything that was happening to her – she couldn’t even _remember_ what was happening to her in the first place.

“Maybe it’s from stress.” Nino suggested kindly. “You’ve got your family coming down soon, right?”

“Oh yeah! That weird uncle of yours. What was his name again?” Alya joined in on the idea, stroking her chin in thought. “Shu?”

Marinette smiled, albeit small, and shook her head. “You mean great uncle Fu? Don’t remind me.”

“What’s so bad about him anyway? From what I’ve heard, he doesn’t seem like a bad person.”

“That’s the problem!” Marinette cried suddenly, shooting up from her crouched position. “This town is too small and I hate it! I want to graduate and move to Paris.”

“Well I don’t blame you,” Alya spoke soothingly, though she cringed at herself. “There really is nothing in this town for us, so all people can do is gossip.”

Nino laughed. “Yeah, even you got dragged into it!”

“Oh be quiet!”

Marinette smile again, a much more genuine smile this time around. “You two really do get along don’t you?”

“What?!”

“No we don’t!”

* * *

 S _he couldn’t imagine doing this in her own life. Marinette felt ridiculous as she placed her hand on her hip, smiling so wide she was sure she was showing her gums to the camera._

_Of course this guy had to be a model!_

_She really couldn’t catch a break, could she? Cocking her hip to the side, she followed the photograhper’s instructions to what she had to do, trying to take the focus away from her clumsy self and project it onto the clothes she was wearing. They were magnificent, even if they were casual wear, and it was only the prospect of wearing such fine materials that kept her from running off the set a blubbering mess. And after all… it was only a dream, so the repercussions wouldn’t last long._

_Only the sense of failure would follow her into her waking moments._

_So she kept at it, twisting her body in a way that felt natural to this boy and smiling in a way she could never muster in her own life. She wasn’t herself right now, so she could do whatever she wanted and it didn’t have to look ridiculous._

_Behind her, the Notre Dame cathedral loomed, providing the perfect scenery for a tourist-targeted range. Hit with a sudden burst of inspiration she flashed a smile at the camera, no doubt practically blinding considering the face of whom it was from, before turning to face the attraction. Her face alight as if she were truly a tourist to this grand city, it wasn’t hard to act as if she were enjoying the wonders for the first time._

_Which wasn’t too far from the truth at all._

_She heard the camera burst in clicks, and she cast a glance to the side lines where the staff were situated, trying to gauge their reactions too. She caught sight of a few impressed nods, careful smiles and pleased faces as notes were jotted down. However, once face stood out among them all: Gabriel Agreste, the designer of the ranger she was wearing. He looked positively miserable, and even form this distance Marinette could see the thinly veiled disappointment on his face. Had she… was this not what he was wanting? Dread pooled in her stomach, and her own smile faltered._

_Before she had the chance to make amends, Gabriel stood from his chair, eyes trained on her for a moment before he called cuts, attention drawn to the iPad he held in his hands. Marinette stood down from whatever pose she was pulling and nervously buried her hands into her pockets. This was her fault. She’d seen his look. And with a confirming look at Nathalie, she knew her suspicions were correct. Nathalie’s head hung low, though Marinette could spy the frustration upon her features, the frantic scribbling as she tried to make excuses for Marinette’s shortcomings - or so she assumed._

_Despite the pleased noises the photographer was making from behind the camera, the dread began to stir within her, seeping throughout her body. She couldn’t hear the praise coming from the various staff members. She could only see the disappointment on Mr Agreste, the fatigue coming from Nathalie._

_Why couldn’t she just do this right?_

* * *

 

Marinette’s day seemed to speed by after their break, and after a few familiar goodbyes from Alya and Nino, she made her way home to the bakery. Her feet dragged as she strolled along the cobblestone pavements, sighing as she prepared herself. How was she going to deal with great uncle Fu when so much was weighing on her mind? His meaningless ‘philosophical’ speeches were bound to only drive her up the wall when she was like this, and she doubted her mother would appreciate her being rude to her family like that.

Her phone buzzed then, and she smiled at the sight of Alya’s name popping up on her screen.

     **_SMS : Good luck with Great Uncle Crazy. You’ve got this._**

That alone gave her the energy she needed, and before she knew it she found herself at the domestic entrance to the bakery, climbing the stairs to the Dupain-Cheng’s apartment and only stopping short of the living room door when she heard friendly laughter within. Steeling herself, she stepping inside with a grin she didn’t know she was capable of.

“And there she is, speak of the devil.” Sabine smiled kindly at the sight of her daughter, and from the sofa Marinette watched as her great uncle turned to look at her.

His face was wrinkled and tanned with age, though he kept the youthful look in his eye so many lacked. Those eyes twinkled at her, and somehow Marinette got the feeling that he knew how much she’d been dreading their meeting - and he had the gall to _enjoy_ it.

“Ah, Marinette. How good it is to see you again.” He smiled. “You’ve grown. _Be not afraid of growing slowly, be only afraid of standing still._ Remember that. _”_

“Thank you, uncle, but if you don’t mind, I need to put my stuff away. You know… been at school and all that.” She bowed politely, cringing at her tone as her face was hidden.

“Of course. I won’t be the one to stand between a student and their leisure time.”

"Thank you.”

“Just remember to come back downstairs when you’re done,” Her mother called after her as she was leaving. “Uncle Fu says he has a gift for you.”

At her mother’s words, Marinette did as she was told; quickly unpacking her bag before heading back downstairs to her family’s company again. As she entered the living room, she stood awkwardly for a few seconds before reluctantly sitting herself down next to her great uncle, her mother occupying the only single seat. She sat in comfortable silence as she watched her mother and uncle catch up; sharing jokes and reports on how the other family members were doing, before all of a sudden their attention focused in on her. She looked between the two, brows raised, as her uncle dug around in his pockets before pulling out a small mahogany box and offering it to her.

“I know you’re not too comfortable with this attention, so I’ll make this quick.” He winked at her, making her mother laugh. “I hope you like them, Marinette.”

With the box dropped into her waiting hands, Marinette opened the lid slowly, unsure of what to expect. Inside was a long weaved ribbon, red in colour and dotted with little black polka dots. At first glance, it could be mistaken for a line of ladybugs, and the thought brought a smile to Marinette’s face. Closing the lid, she looked back up at her uncle, a question already forming on her tongue. “It’s lovely. But what is this for? My birthday isn’t for a while yet.”

“I thought you might need it. Your mother said that you were her good luck charm, so I thought it would only be fair for you to have your own.” He nodded solemnly. “If you accept it, it will be a part of you.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, only if you want it.”

In answer, Marinette retrieved the cord from the box, wrapping it around her wrist until it was tight. Tying the ends together and finishing the loop, she admired her newfound bracelet. “Thank you, uncle Fu. Where did you get it?”

“I made it myself. Our family used to specialize in rope and cord making, but over time it became less of an attractive task, so it fell out of fashion. Maybe you’ll take interest, but that’s not to say you have to. It’s plenty enough for you to be wearing a Cheng cord.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind.” She laughed hesitantly before her mother spoke.

“Oh, Marinette I forgot to tell you.” Sabine stood from her chair, heading towards the kitchen. “Great Uncle Fu will be staying with us until the comet passes. It will be a good time for you two to catch up for the time you’ve not seen one another.”

“The comet?” Her brows furrowed, trying to remember any mentions of such a thing. “Oh right, the comet they’ve been talking about on the news lately? Isn’t Paris supposed to be getting the best view of it?”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Fu said, those playful features contradicting his serious tone. “Science can only predict so much. I’m certain Èze will get a good view of it too.”

“Is it really that big of an event?”

Her mother nodded. “Of course it is. It’s not every day a comet passes to close to the Earth. It’ll be a wonderful thing to witness.”

“When is it?”

“It should be overhead within the next few weeks, according to the meteorologists.” Sabine returned to the living room with a tray of drinks. “On October 4th if I remember correctly.”

“It will be a pleasure to stay with you all until then, and Marinette,” Fu spoke again, his attention switching to focus on Marinette. “I want you to enjoy the comet as much as you can. It may change the way you perceive the world.”

“I highly doubt that, uncle.” Marinette laughed.

“You are young, Marinette – you’re open to the world in ways us old folk are not. Don’t discount the opportunity before it has chance to arrive. If that’s the case, I wish only that you have a change of heart. A closed mind will only cause you pain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time we'll see Adrien, finally!


End file.
